Well folks, we’re at the final day of the fundraiser. As I write this, we’re about 24 hours away from the finish line.
The last couple days have been amazing. A lot of folks have chipped in with last-minute donations. Others have come back to donate a second or third time. A lot of people have been spreading the word, blogging, twittering, and shouting out of windows at unsuspecting persons on the street.
The end result is that we’ve raised far more than I’d ever hoped this year, far beyond the 250,000 dollars I expected to be our high water mark.
I just have a few things to mention before everything’s done.
First: In the last blog I accidentally said that the ARC of Redshirts that John Scalzi donated was going into an auction. That was a typing mistake brought about by lack of sleep. Redshirts is going into the general lottery so that anyone who donates at least 10 bucks has a chance of winning it.
So, in the interest of keeping this a prize-rich environment, I’m going to donate another 100 books to the fundraiser. I tend to be a book hoarder, and I have duplicates and triplicates of some books that I’m very fond of. I have extra signed copies that I keep tucked away for a rainy day, too. And some limited edition stuff.
The upshot is that even though you don’t see any pictures of it here, there’s now officially more cool stuff to win. Because I love you.
Third: For the last couple months, I’ve been getting e-mails from people telling me stories about their donations.
I’ve heard from parents who have talked to their kids about Heifer International, then later had their kids write to Santa asking for a goat that they could give to someone who needs it. There have been families that exchanged animals instead of presents this year. Book clubs and church groups have done fundraisers of their own, pooling their resources then donating to Heifer through Worldbuilders.
There isn’t space to share all their e-mails with you, but I thought I might share one….
Hi Pat!
I love, love, love Worldbuilders, but as a broke law student I can’t afford to donate much…So this year, my fiance and I had a fun idea. We agree with your take on Valentine’s Day, so this year as our “Valentine’s Day present” to each other, we donated in our name to Worldbuilders.
We thought setting aside money for goats was way more important than setting aside money for unnecessary trinkets, and what better way is there to celebrate loving each other and wanting to spend our lives together than by making the world we want to live in even better, and honoring an author whose work we adore?
We put it on facebook too, here’s hoping more people might follow the lead!
W–
I like your style, W. Thanks for thinking outside the box and helping to spread the word….
Fourth: There’s only one auction left: the Golden Ticket. Bidding has already topped 4,000 dollars, and I’ll admit to feeling equal parts curiosity and anxiety when I wonder what the winner will ask of me….
Fifthly and Lastly: Ever since I posted up the 150K blog, people have been e-mailing me, asking me to share the video that I made of me reading Beatrice’s Goat to little Oot.
I still feel self-conscious about the fact that my voice gets higher when I read to him. And because we had to cut together a couple of different readings of the book, my voice back and forth between my reading-to-Oot voice and my regular voice, which makes it seem like I’m flirting with puberty….
But people asked for it, so here it is. Not posting because I’m a little vain is just silly.
Plus I figure Oot’s natural cuteness will eclipse any shortcomings on my part….
So there you go, folks. If you didn’t get it before, now you do. That’s what Heifer International does in a nutshell.
If you’d like to read more details about the fundraiser or browse through the thousand odd books donated by authors and publishers, you can head over to the main Worldbuilders page.
So I’m kinda swamped right now with one thing and another. I’m struggling manfully with NaNoWriMo, trying to get ready for Worldbuilders, and working on putting new inventory in Worldbuilder’s online store: The Tinker’s Packs.
I wasn’t planning on going to the Dells this weekend, I was going to try and knuckle down and focus on my wordcount. But the local sci-fi convention that’s based here in Stevens Point got hit with a sudden change of venue when the convention center here in Stevens Point unexpected closed a month ago.
But the folks at Daishocon didn’t let that stop them. They called around and found somewhere else they could host the convention: The Kalahari in Wisconsin Dells. Which is kinda cool, because now I can take Sarah and Oot to play in their indoor water park in between my panels.
What’s my point? Mostly :
1. If you’re at loose ends this weekend, and want to come to a gaming/sci-fi/anime convention, you should stop by Daishocon. Not tonly will we I be doing three panels on Saturday, but we’ll be holding an auction for worldbuilders.
Best of all, fellow fantasy writer and Wisconsinite Scott Lynch will be there, too.
2. I’m kinda busy.
So for the blog today, you’re going to get link salad. An interesting miscellany of stuff I’ve been meaning to share for a while now, but for some reason or other, I haven’t gotten around to it.
First and foremost, Goodreads is holding their annual Choice Awards. The Wise Man’s Fear has been nominated for a couple of categories, so you can wander over there if you like.
Or, if you’re not in a voting mood, you can subscribe to my profile over there, so you’ll get a heads-up when I post up a review of a book.
Nextly, someone posted a cool flow chart using all the books in NPR’s list of 100 best sci-fi books of all time. It’s a very tongue-in-cheek “how-do-I-find-the-book-that’s-best-for-me?” chart, and you can test your geek street cred by seeing how many of the jokes you understand.
And lastly, a blog where someone compares different writing styles to different deserts. It struck me as an interesting way to look at the situation, and I will admit that I was a little tickled to be referred to as tiramisu.
This is part of my San Diego ComicCon diary from 2011. It’s sort of the middle of the story.
If you want the whole story, you might want to start reading at the beginning. Other parts include: Wednesday, Thursday Part I, and Friday Ad Infinitum.
* * *
Before I tell the story of Wootstock, I should give you a little background so things will make sense.
A stab at definition.
For those of you that don’t know about it, Wootstock is….
It’s sort of like a modern variety show. (Except nobody knows what a variety show is these days.)
Imagine A Prairie Home Companion if it was run by a bunch of sci-fi nerds. (Man, that’s no good either, does anyone else other than me listen to A Prairie Home Companion?)
Okay. How about this. There’s music. There’s comedy. There’s music-comedy. There’s skits. There’s cussing and nerd humor and poetry and, well…
It’s pretty much a big geek performance orgy.
Honestly, I’ve wanted a piece of Wootstock for ages. Ever since I first heard about it, I wanted in.
I mentioned his book on the blog a while back. It’s called Ready Player One. And not only did I like it enough to give it a blurb. I liked it enough to dig up his e-mail address and gush to him directly about how much I loved it.
I think the entire content of my first e-mail was, “Your book is fucking awesome.”
I tried to get them to use that for the blurb on the back, (“This book is fucking awesome.” — Patrick Rothfuss) But their marketing people wouldn’t go for it.
Anyway, Ernest got an invite to Wootstock from Wil Wheaton, who is narrating the audiobook of Ready Player One. Ernest, being a generous human being, asked if I’d like to share some of his stage time.
I said yes. I said it in a firm, manly, baritone. Then I hung up the phone and laughed my most maniacal laugh.
Right. So. We all on the same page here?
7:00 – Backstage.
I walk up to the side door of the Balboa Theater in San Diego. Someone was waiting for me at the door, where they gave me this:
My very first All Access pass. It makes me feel like a rockstar.
I go backstage and down into the secret parts of the theater. It’s a magical sort of place. It’s a secret place that only the performers get to see, and it’s electric in a way that’s hard to describe. Everyone there is getting ready for the show. They’re excited, and a little nervous, and happy to see each other. Plus it’s comic-con, so we’re all a little exhausted. And a few of us are slightly tipsy, too… (Though not me, as I’m not much of a drinker.)
There’s a blur of people all over the place. Some of them I recognize, like Adam Savage from Mythbusters. And the guys from Rifftrax (who used to do MST3K.)
I’m introduced to a few people in a whirlwind fashion. I shake hands and nod at names. But they all run out of me like water. If I say, “someone said” or “someone did” I’m not trying to protect anyone’s identity, or snub them. It’s because a lot of the evening is a blur to me. I suck at meeting people, and I only have space in my head for about 5 new names.
Then I turn around and Wil Wheaton is there.
It’s weird meeting someone you kinda already know. And I kinda know Wil from a bunch of different directions. From his blog, from Star Trek, from his books, and from the Guild.
Plus we e-mailed just a little a day or two before Wootstock. I won’t bullshit you, that made me kinda tingly.
Anyway, we’re introduced, and we shake hands. He thanks me for the nice things I said about his book on my blog. And I’m a little surprised that he’s read it, though I shouldn’t be, I suppose. I tell him that I loved it.
That’s all we have time for. The stage manager is gathering everyone up to make some announcements before the show.
We all jam into a room and Liz is introduced. She is the boss. She tells us how it’s all going to work. She tells us we can watch from backstage, and that we should, so that we don’t miss our cues. She tells us to stick to our allotted time. She tells us where the beer and pizza are.
Everyone else nods attentively. There are a few jokes. But all of this is old hat for most of them.
Me? I’m grinning like an idiot. The show hasn’t even started yet and I’m having the best time….
* * *
I should explain something. I used to do lots of group-performance type things. I used to sing in choirs. I used to do radio comedy. I used to act a little, and did a few plays, a musical or two.
I even used to do a little improv comedy. Which is like a trial by fire. Once you do improv comedy, no other type of performance will ever truly frighten you.
Now I didn’t do a lot of these things seriously. But I did them. I enjoyed them.
And I miss them.
You see, one of the downsides of being a writer is that it’s a very solitary occupation. If everything is going well with my writing, I’ll spend 10-12 hours a day alone, and the rest of my time sleeping. (Also alone, usually.)
When I do get out to do a reading or a convention, I have a lot of fun. I enjoy meeting fans and signing books. I enjoy doing Q&A and reading stuff to an audience. It’s a nice opportunity for me to go out and be social.
But while it’s social, it’s a very solitary type of performance. I’m up in front of 200-600 people talking. There’s just me and the audience.
I’d forgotten what it was like to be part of a group of performers. To be a piece of a WE.
It feels great.
* * *
Liz makes one last announcement. They’ve gone to the worst seat in the house and borrowed the person’s camera. They’re going to pass it around backstage and we’ll all take pictures with it. That way the poor schlub with the worst seat will have a cool memento of the show and, as a bonus, the pictures will go online so everyone can use them.
It’s only because of the photoset that I have a shot of Ernest and me backstage, wherein I am getting my Kawaii on.
The show kicks off, and after cadging a piece of free pizza, I head upstairs we head up onto stage and watch the show from the wings. The theatre is gorgeous. A place with some real style to it.
It’s certainly the biggest house I’ve ever played to, and I’m a little nervous. But despite the fact that I’m anxiously fretting over what exactly I’m going to read, I can’t help but get pulled in by Molly Lewis playing the ukulele.
Her songs crack me up as I watch from backstage, and it helps me relax a bit.
Then, as I’m watching her play, a little motion catches my attention from the corner of my eye. So I look over and see Wil Wheaton dancing.
Before that point, I liked Wil Wheaton. I knew he was cool. I respected him as a writer, enjoyed him as a performer, and admired him as a strong, smart, outspoken member of the geek community.
But backstage in the Balboa theatre, I watched Wil Wheaton do a happy, goofy little dance, and that was when I started to love him.
Soon afterwards, Ernest gets his cue and heads out onto stage. He reads some hardcore geek poetry. Good stuff. He’s a good performer, too. Gets a good reaction from the crowd.
Then he introduces me. I’m a surprise guest of sorts, as I’m not on the program. People cheer when they hear my name, which is kind of a shock. It’s then that I decide what I’m going to read. I’m not going to try to follow Ernest’s poetry with more poetry. I think he’s got me beat in that regard.
I’m not going to read a piece out of my book, either. Too clunky. I even decide against reading a piece of a short story I’m working on.
No. A whole theatre of people cheering and my new man-crush Wil Wheaton watching from the wings means I go straight to my best material. The piece I keep in my back pocket whenever I do a reading. My sure-fire winner. My big gun.
I pull out The Guinea Pig Story.
Those of you who have seen me at a live reading might have heard it. Most of you have not.
It’s one of of the humor pieces I wrote back in college. Theoretically I was writing an advice column, but realistically I was making fun of people and telling incriminating stories about my life.
Here’s the only video I was able to find of the performance. The first little bit of my performance is cut off there, but it’s only about a sentence of the letter someone wrote in, asking for advice about keeping pets in their dormroom.
I got a great reaction from the audience, and left the stage feeling roughly ten thousand feet tall.
8:00 – Random House Party
After hanging around for a while and watching a few more acts, Ernest said he was going over to the Random House party and asked if I’d like to come along.
Though I was loathe to leave, I figured I should go and rub some elbows with some more bookish types. That’s kinda my job in some ways.
So I went to the party, hung out with some folks, and ended up riding a mechanical bull.
Why? No. Why is not the right question. I was at San Diego ComicCon. The proper question is “why the fuck not?”
That party was fun, but after about 45 minutes, I made my excuses and headed back to Wootstock. Because, y’know, Wootstock.
9:00 ish – More Wootstock.
I got back just in time for intermission, where I amused myself by handing out copies of the Chick Tract Dark Dungeons to members of the audience. I hope nobody thought I was serious….
After all my tracts were gone, I used my fancy pass to get backstage, feeling rockstar all over again. I wandered down to the dressing rooms and bumped into Felicia Day, who was also a surprise guest. I got a free hug and we chatted for about forty-five seconds before someone tells her she’s about to miss her entrance cue.
Somehow, someone managed to catch us on film during that brief moment. Proving that I’m not a big fibber.
I hang around and chat with folk, occasionally watching some of the show from backstage. I catch Jeff Lewis (Vork, for you Guildies out there) doing a piece of honest-to-god standup comedy. The man has amazing comic timing and delivery. As you’d already know if you were watching The Jeff Lewis 5-minute Comedy Hour.
11:30 ish – Autographing.
Eventually the show wraps up with a great closing number that I watch from the wings. Then I head downstairs to get my backpack and maybe another slice of pizza before I head out. When I’m gathering up my stuff, someone asks if I want to stick around and sign autographs. I shrug and agree, because I have nowhere else in particular to be.
Now over the last couple of years I’ve done a lot of signings. It’s old hat in a lot of ways. Usually I’m all alone. I’m a one-man-show.
But this one was different. A bunch of the performers were sticking around to sign posters and programs.
What’s more, at Wootstock, most of the people could give a damn about me. They’re there to see Wheaton, or Savage, or bask in the radiant glory of Paul and Storm.
And you know what? It was nice doing a signing where most folks didn’t care who I was. It gave me a chance to goof off and get to know the people sitting on either side of me. To my left was the aforementioned Molly Lewis. And to my right was someone I didn’t know at all, but I quickly learned that she was Amy Berg, writer/producer for Eureka (among many other things.)
So we hang out and chat as the line of people slowly trickles past. I’m feeling pretty relaxed. I’ve had a good day. I was on a panel with George Martin, had dinner with Jim Butcher, and got to chat with Wil Wheaton. I went to a party with an actual velvet rope, and the bouncer nodded me through even though I wasn’t on the list. I rode the mechanical bull and didn’t hurt myself. I got a hug from Felicia day and made a thousand people laugh….
It’s been a busy 14 hours, and I’m in that warm, happy place that comes when you know you don’t have to work any more. And, because I’m in a good mood, I start to joke around with the people coming through the line….
And that’s when I *really* start to get to know the people sitting on either side of me. I draw a picture of a duck on someone’s poster, and they mock me for its utter terribleness. They mocked me with a sharp-tongued viciousness I haven’t experienced since most of my best friends moved away from Stevens Point.
So I abandoned drawing and started signing clever things on the posters. Then my neighbors started writing things on their posters that were clever-er. And I feel really put out by this, because normally *I* get to be the witty one, and they were out wittying me without hardly trying. I felt the sudden need to step up my game, to say nothing of wanting to buy some of Molly’s music and catch up on the current season of Eureka….
The signing went on for at least a couple hours, and it was the perfect end to the perfect day. As I left the theater I felt that strange, glowy feeling that comes when you level up. It wasn’t until I got home that I found out where the XP boost had come from:
Best of all, I’d made it through two entire days at the convention without making an ass of myself in front of anyone.
Imagine my surprise when one of the shirts I loved went straight to the bottom of the pack and stayed there.
It made me glad that I’d decided to put things to a vote. But still, I was sad that I wouldn’t get a chance to see that shirt made.
Fast forward to a couple months back when I got a flurry of messages from people asking if we would ever print kid’s shirts. Or baby onesies.
So, behold:
We decided to turn my favorite design into some onesies you could buy to support Worldbuilders.
If you want to see a closeup of the design, here it is:
What I really like about this image is that it relates a lot of The Name of the Wind without being in any way language dependent.
In fact, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that this shirt would be way easier for kids to appreciate because they could identify the pictures themselves.
So as soon as the onesies came in from the printer, I showed one to Oot.
I point at the lower-leftmost speech bubble. “What’s this?” I ask, thinking, this one should be pretty easy. He knows what a heart is….
“Crab,” he said without any hesitation.
“Oh,” I say. “Okay.” I point at the book. “What’s this?”
“Choccate!” (Chocolate.)
“And this?” I ask, pointing at the cloud.
“Skis,” he says immediately. The word is completely clear. When did he learn what skis are?
“And this?” I point at the musical notes.
“Shopping cart.” Again, he’s absolutely sure of himself.
“Who’s this in the middle?” I ask, pointing at Kvothe himself.
“Issa boy,” he tells me. “Shouting.”
If you’re one of those “pics or it didn’t happen” people, here’s a video where Valerie quizzes Oot about what’s on his shirt.
His answers are a little different there, as he’s obviously gained a clearer understanding of the shirt after re-reading it a couple times.
So there you go. If you’d like to buy a onesie with a boy shouting about crabs, chocolate, skis, and a shopping cart, today is your lucky day.
We’ve priced the same as our t-shirts at 20 dollars. I wish I could sell them for less, but the onsies are actually way more expensive to buy than the t-shirts. The printing is more expensive, too, because it uses so many colors.
Rest assured that all the money from the sale of the shirts goes directly to Worldbuilders. It’s not like I’m spending it on hookers and PEZ.
And just for one last piece of cute, here’s a picture of Oot wearing it.
(Click to Encutenate.)
This picture cracks me up a big because Oot looks like such a smooth player in it.
“Hey sweetie,” he says. “What? This shirt? Just some old thing I threw on. You know, this scene is played out. What say you and I go back by the couch and I show you how high I can stack some blocks….”
One more time, just in case you need it: the link to the Tinker’s Packs.
Lastly, a final heads-up for those of you in Northern Michigan and the UP. I’m doing two signings in those parts this weekend, and I probably won’t be back in the area for a while.
Want to know when the Spanish translation will be published? Check out the video below.
Don’t care about the Spanish pub date, but still want to see something kinda awesome? This video is also for you.
Don’t like awesome things? Then you, my friend, are reading the wrong blog….
Honestly, I’ll never get tired of seeing these foreign book trailers.
I’m considering watching this one again and again, so that when I get to Spain, I’ll be able to recite the whole thing. That will be the only Spanish I’ll be able to speak, so whenever someone asks me a question, I’ll just recite the whole thing to them, doing my best to mimic the narrator’s deep, dramatic voice….
Thursday is my big day at the con, I’m on a panel with a bunch of epic fantasy bigwigs including George Martin and Brandon Sanderson. It’s my only panel at the con this year, and it’s going to be a big one.
So I make a point of getting up extra early so I’ll have time to perform my elaborate grooming rituals, anoint myself with scented oils, and carefully select which of my many stylish tuxedos I will wear to the convention.
My which I mean to say that I wake up at 11:00 and am walking to the con by 11:20.
11:30 – Coffee.
Yeah. If I’m going to try be witty on the panel. I definitely need some. So I get some.
For those of you that are curious, it’s a large white chocolate mocha with hazelnut.
Yeah, yeah. I know it’s not the most macho coffee in the world. But I couldn’t get my usual. They didn’t have blueberry syrup.
11:45 – Satyriasis
While heading up to my panel I get a text from a friend. Pooka is the lovely fan who took me under her wing at my very first ComicCon back in 2009. I was wandering aimlessly, trembling and dewy as a newborn fawn. She took pity on me and, to completely mix the metaphor, showed me the ropes.
Pooka’s message tells me she’s been standing in line for hours and is worried that she won’t be able to get in. I give her a call and let her know that this is the one place in the world that I might actually be able to use my meager crumb of celebrity and get her in the door.
So I get to the room and start to stroll down the line. Pooka isn’t hard to spot because she’s wearing six inch platform boots and… well… this:
Pooka is the one on the right. You can’t see it too well in this picture, but she’s also covered in glitter.
(Also, those aren’t cat ears, they’re horns. I made the mistake of calling her a catgirl and she pointed out my mistake.)
She’s only about 20 people from the front of the line, so I wander over and say hello. Then I pull her out of the line and we head to the door where I’m also going to try and work my mojo to get her and another friend.
I met Gregory Noveck at the con last year, he’s a fan of the books that works in the movie business, and he’s been kind enough to help clue me in to some of the mysteries of how Hollywood works.
I introduce the two of them, and we chat for a moment or two until the panel before mine finishes. Then I show my badge to the door guy and head inside with my two friends and a few of the other speakers and press people. Once I’m in, I can see that there’s actually a ton of seats available. Pooka didn’t need my help after all.
With Pooka and Greg are safely inside, I head out again to get a drink of water and burn a little nervous energy. I’m preoccupied with the upcoming panel, a little nervous because I’m going to be up there with some people who are a Pretty Big Deal.
It’s not until almost 5 minutes later that I start thinking of how this must have looked to the other people standing in line around Pooka.
So for the record, I’d like to officially state that I’m not a pervert.
Well, wait. Depending on your viewpoint, I probably am.
But I’d like to officially state that I’m not the particular flavor of tacky pervert I must have looked like to the casual observer. I didn’t just show up for my panel, troll down the line until I found some random, scantily-clad, hot girl, and pull her inside as some sort honorary arm candy. We know each other. We’re friends.
Honestly.
12:00: The Epic Panel
(Click to Embiggen.)
We talked about epic fantasy.
It was a good panel, but we needed more time or fewer people. Seven is too many in my opinion, especially when you’ve got this many heavy hitters. Especially if you consider that we’re folks who tend to measure our word counts in terms of millions.
For the most part, I tried to keep my answers brief and to the point. And a little funny never hurts, either. I got a few good laughs from the audience and didn’t make an ass of myself, so I consider the experience a success.
After the panel, Martin came up and shook my hand, said he’d really enjoyed my second book. Said it was a good, quick read. A page-turner.
I was caught completely off guard by this. I was stunned and flattered, in all honesty. Luckily, I didn’t have time to make an ass of myself because the people in charge quickly hustle us over to our….
1:30 Epic Signing
Everyone on the panel sits down to sign books for a while. Paolini and Martin were busy as bees. I wasn’t in nearly as big a demand, which was actually really nice as it gave me the chance to hang out and chat with the people that wanted their books signed. That’s something there isn’t time for me to do at some of the bigger events where we get 300+ people.
2:30 – Ronin
I owe allegiance to no man. I wander the exhibit hall, a law unto myself, looking at catgirls and thinking a lot about waveform motion.
4:30 – Christopher Fucking Moore.
I hear that Jim Butcher’s signing is finishing up at 4:30, so I wander over to meet him and see if he’s interested in grabbing an early dinner with Sanderson, Paolini and I.
As an unexpected treat, Amber Benson is there as well. I totally get a hug. Because I’m awesome.
Then I realize one of the other guys there signing books is Christopher Moore. And at first all I can think is, “Fucksocks!”
You see, up until a year ago, I’d never read anything Moore had written. Then I picked up a copy of You Suck to read on a plane and immediately fell in love. The next day I went to my local indi bookstore and bought every book he’d ever written.
I’ve been meaning to write a blog about his books for ages. But for now, let me simply say that he’s brilliant. Double plus brilliant.
I grab a quick handshake and do a brief, “Hello. Your stuff is incredible.” And leave it at that, lest I over-gush.
Then I buy the last two special-edition copies of Lamb they have for sale. (They look like bibles, gold leaf and everything) One is for me, and the other I’m going to use it as a prize for Worldbuilders later on this year.
5:00 – Dinner
So Sanderson, Butcher, Paolini, and Rothfuss walk into a bar….
Or rather, we walk through a bar, and into a restaurant to have dinner. We’re accompanied by Christopher’s sister, Angela, and Jim’s friend, Priscilla Spencer. I know Priscilla from way back (She does Books for Boobs, among other things.) But I never realized that she was the same Priscilla that did Jim’s maps for the Codex Alera.
Yeah. I’m kinda thick sometimes.
We have a lovely time over dinner. We tell stories and engage in the geeky book talk.
Unfortunately, I have a previous engagement, and I have to leave far sooner than I’d like.
I stand up and put my napkin on the table. “I’m really sorry,” I say. “But I’ve got to get going. I’m doing a little cameo appearance at Wootstock.”
I try to say this casually. As if I do this sort thing all the time. But I’m pretty sure I sound smug as hell. Because the truth is, I’m really, really fucking excited about getting to be part of Wootstock.
Also, I am slightly terrified. Slightly completely terrified.
It turns out Jim and Priscilla have tickets for Wootstock, so we share a taxi on the way there….
I’m in a taxi with Jim Butcher, heading to a theater where I’m going to meet with members of the Geek Gliterati. I’m heading to a theater where I’m going to stand onstage, alone, and read something to a crowd of over 1000 people.
My life has become rather strange over the last couple years….
Here’s a few items of interest while I’m putting together the next ComicCon blog.
As I’ve mentioned on many occasions, I’m a big fan of Jim Butcher.
While out at ComicCon this year, I got a chance to interview him. It was a ton of fun, and I only geeked out a little bit about how good his books are.
[Edit: In case you’re wondering, the interview is spoiler-free.]
[Later Edit: It’s spoiler-free for Ghost Story. Around 10: 50 there’s a spoiler for what happens in Changes, the book right before Ghost Story.
Sorry about that.]
Seriously. If you haven’t tried the Harry Dresden books, you really need to. They’re so fucking good.
In other news, NPR has finished collating everyone’s initial nominations for the 100 best Sci-Fi and Fantasy novels of all time. They took the recommendations of about 5000 people and compiled them into a list that includes about 230 books/series. Now they’re giving people 10 days to vote go in and vote for their 10 favorite books.
When I first flipped through the list, I was a little disappointed not to see The Name of the Wind on there. But only a little disappointed. It’s a big genre, after all, and I’m very new to the scene.
Then someone pointed out that while The Name of the Wind isn’t listed, The Kingkiller Chronicleis.
Needless to say, I was giddy as a schoolgirl. A big beardy schoolgirl whose book just made it onto a very flattering list.
If you’re interested, you can head over here and vote. It’s an amazing list of books, and trying to pick just ten titles to vote for is an interesting mental exercise.
